A Snapshot of Dixie

27: The Last Show

TUCKER

"Thank y'all for coming out! It's been a fantastic night here in the great city of Nashville!" I holler, bringing two fingers to my lips and tossing a kiss out to the crowd.

Breathing in my final moments as this tour comes to an end, I feel truly grateful to have had such amazing fans on my journey thus far.

High-fiving my band members before we exit the stage, I throw an extra nudge to Austin.

"You put on a great show, man. You nailed that guitar solo."

"Thanks, Tuck. I guess I'm not as bad of a guitarist as you thought, huh?"

I chuckle at Austin's response. "Not bad at all. I'll catch up with you guys later. I gotta find Emily."
Austin and the rest of the guys nod and head to their dressing rooms.

Reflecting on the last few weeks of our time together, I admit how much I'm going to miss them. Even though our relationships have been short-lived, they're damn good friends for putting up with me.

"Amazing show, Tucker." Stew startles me, clapping his hands. I bring my hand over my mouth to mask my chuckle, seeing the hideous plaid suit he's wearing. The mix of blues goes well with his white hair, but the dude looks like he's living in the '70s every damn time I see him.

"Thanks," is all I can say to Stew before grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat dripping down my neck.

"Emily," Stew says, tipping his head as I look to the left of me. She scowls at him, not returning the greeting before walking away.

Damn, she must still be sour at me for what happened in New York.

Wiping my neck and airing out my sweaty white tee, I walk back to my dressing room and reflect on the events that caused Emily's pissy attitude.

After unplugging for a memorable day with Dixie Mae, I woke up the following to a shitshow in the real world. Several articles were posted across multiple social media sources and tabloids with a photo of me punching "Dillon." Most of them said I was a raging drunk, suffering from a broken heart. Naturally, Hattie spoke to the press and fed them some sob story about how my drinking drove her away and caused us to break up. Clearly, whatever I say is useless when it comes to her lies.

Emily was beyond pissed, to say the least. Her exact words were: "I take sick leave for a few days and in all your years, this is when you decide to attend a fucking party?! I'm going to strangle you, Tucker James!" I'd never heard her use such vulgar language, so I knew I was in hot water.

Hearing the door shut behind me, I spin around, seeing Stew.

"Is there something I can help you with?" I ask, wondering why he's here.

"I just wanted to personally congratulate you. I've been very pleased with your attitude lately, Tucker. The last few weeks since that New York disaster, you've stepped it up tremendously."

"Thanks, I guess." I grab a water bottle from the mini-fridge and take a large gulp, still feeling warm from my performance.

Evaluating the last few weeks, I acknowledge how difficult it's been to keep my cool, but I'm grateful to hear that none of what I'm feeling for these people seeps through. I promised Dixie Mae I would finish this tour and try not to get myself into any more trouble, even though it seems to find me more often than not. Quite frankly, it feels like I've been riding a giant wave lately, praying I don't lose my balance. Every time I look over my shoulder, the wave grows more fierce, threatening to pull me under its monstrous tide. Luckily, I'm an excellent swimmer. No matter how strong the surge is, I'll give it everything I have to stay afloat.